Quiet Crumbling

 
I'm invisible when you're angry.

You walk past
and I stand, stuttering
in non-movement.

I ask softly, but you wised up.
These days, you deny it.
"No, baby, I'm not angry with you."

"I'm just a little tired."
"I had a rough day."

Is this progress?
I think I preferred it
when the crockery was flying.

Come back, let's smash some glasses...